


The Beginning

by My_Trex_has_fleas



Series: It's Fun To be A Vampire [2]
Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8664169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary: How Jim and Ross met and what happened to them to change their destinies.





	1. A Night of Revelry

Plymouth, 1773

Ross Poldark, son and heir of Joshua Poldark, waited for the ship that would take him from his home to the Americas. 

It would forever be amusing to him that if he hadn’t decided to kick up his heels one last time before his ignominious dispatching, his life and indeed his afterlife would have looked very different. Maybe he would have been killed in battle. Maybe he would have returned to marry Elizabeth. Maybe he would have done neither of those things and embarked on a different destiny, one he could have never forseen. As it stood, his current plans had not been of his choosing but it was certainly better than the noose.

He stood and scrutinised himself in what passed for a mirror in the small inn room he’d taken while he waited for his regiment to assemble and this was his very last night before he was embarking on one of His Majesty’s ships and sailing across the Atlantic. Part of him was well pleased that at least his uniform was pristine and the red coat he wore set off his dark good looks wonderfully. Ross wasn’t above a little vanity when the occasion called for it. He wished Elizabeth could see him like this, for she would surely swoon at how gallant he appeared. He was frustrated with the size of the mirror, however, it being too small to show the entirety of his lanky frame. At twenty-three he was still affected by the gangliness of youth with long legs and elegant lines. He’d had the inn boy polish his boots to a mirror shine and he stood and adjusted his black neck cloth just so. Joshua’s influence and money had been enough to buy him a commission that suited his standing as the son of a country squire and eventual owner of the fine homestead of Nampara. Satisfied with his appearance, Ross took his cloak and hat from the bed and left the room. 

He went downstairs. The inn had been suggested by Francis, who’d travelled up to come and share his final evening with him. They had always been thick as thieves and Ross was glad that he’d be spending the time with his cousin. Francis always managed to scare up something of interest and tonight was of no exception. He’d arrived in Plymouth that morning, bright eyed and cheerful and waving a letter of introduction for a gathering at the house of a lady of high standing who was rumoured to host the most excellent of gaming evenings, along with wines of fine vintage and the opportunity to meet someone with a similar outlook on life. 

Ross was looking forward to it. His training as an officer had required him to restrict his social engagements and he was champing at the bit for a bit of fun. He found his cousin in the downstairs parlour of the inn, and he stood and greeted Ross with his usual good cheer, blue eyes twinkling.

‘There you are Ross.’ he said, standing up. ‘We shall be late if you do not get a move on.’

‘I am ready, Francis.’ Ross replied. ‘Have you asked for our horses?’

‘I have.’ Francis said. ‘They should be waiting for us.’

The horses were waiting as promised and Ross mounted his black mare that Francis would be taking home with him to Nampara the next day. They set off in the direction of the house Francis had told him about and rode along chatting companiably as the sky darkened. The house was some way out of town and when they arrived it was to a line of lanterns lighting their way down a central drive with the house at the end. Carriages and other riders were arriving as well and they handed their mounts over to a footman and then proceeded inside. Francis handed the letter of introduction to another servant and they were ushered inside. Ross saw that the gathering seemed quite a festive one, all manner of people of high standing swanning around in their finery. He noticed there were several young ladies giving him glances over their fans and made a mental note to go and make their acquaintance later. The footman led them to a reception room decorated in the Chinese style and presented them to a magnificent woman. She was quite lovely, if older than they were, and her thick auburn hair was elaborately pinned. Her gown was of deep red velvet, suiting her milk white skin perfectly which was further set off by a heavy collar of dark metal and glinting red stones. Her eyes were equally dark as her hair and gave them both an appraising glance. 

‘Good evening, gentlemen.’ she said, holding out one hand for them to take in turns. I am delighted to have you here at my little soiree.’ She smiled at Ross and it held the promise of many interesting things to come. ‘We are particularly happy to have such a dashing young captain with us tonight.’ 

‘Thank you, madam.’ Francis replied. ‘You are very kind to receive us.’ He took her hand and inclined his head. ‘I have heard that your soirees are most diverting for those of us with money in our pockets and the desire to spend it.’ Their hostess laughed throatily and extended one hand in the direction of another doorway. 

‘You shall find what you seek through there.’ she said. They thanked her again and went in the direction she’d indicated and she was correct. There were several gaming tables set up and several games were already in session. Ross ran an eye over the prospects and quickly spotted one where the average player was substantially older. He knew from good experience that this would mean they players had a ready source of income and so the winning should be good. Unfortunately Francis seemed to have had the same idea and he headed for the only empty seat, claiming it with a wicked grin in Ross’ direction. Ross gave him an arch look and then went over to the only other one which boasted a seat.

‘Good evening.’ he said, using his most winning smile and polite tones. ‘May I join you?’ The players all looked up and that was when Ross saw him. He should have backed off immediately. The Navy was well known for the skill of their card players and yet there was something in the young man’s light eyes that caught Ross’ attention and he suddenly realised that it was the same appraising look that Ross himself was giving the occupants, only this time it was directed at him.

‘That depends.’ he replied to Ross’ question. ‘Are you ready to lose?’

The borderline arrogance in his attitude and voice made Ross give him a more thorough look. The other players were of that genteel merchant class and the young man was the only sailor at the table. His blue frock coat declared him an officer, his youth indicating a lieutenant if Ross’ reckoning was correct. Like Ross, he was immaculately turned out, his long blond hair tied back and his light eyes set off by a suntanned complexion visible even in the soft light of the candles and lamps. 

‘I would say yes.’ Ross replied. ‘However I am not in the habit of losing.’ That got a raised eyebrow and a flicker of a knowing smile. 

‘You’ll be changing your tune tonight, I fear.’ one of the other players said. ‘Our good Lieutenant has proven himself to be quite skilled at emptying pockets.’ It was said jovially, but Ross could sense the annoyance underneath it and immediately recognised a kindred spirit. 

‘We shall see.’ he said, directing his words at the young officer and now the smile blazed to life, brilliant and dimpled and more wicked than the Devil himself. 

‘In that case, I must press you for your name sir.’ he said and there was a lilt to it that made Ross’ breathing rather inexplicably speed up a little. ‘I always like to know who I will be bankrupting.’ Ross sat down and a footman appeared at his elbow to offer him a glass of wine which he happily accepted, now looking forward to a most engaging evening. 

‘Captain Ross Poldark.’ he replied. ‘Of His Majesty’s 62nd Foot.’ He met the officer’s eyes and held the look steadily. ‘And yourself?’

‘Lieutenant James Hawkins of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.’ the officer replied. ‘You are here in Plymouth to be taken across to the Americas?’

‘I am.’ Ross replied. ‘This is in fact my last night ashore.’ 

‘In that case, I shall endeavour to make it as memorable as possible.’ Hawkins said. There was an undercurrent of laughter in his voice and Ross came to the realisation that he could quite possibly like this young man. ‘It would be a shame for you to have to endure a sea voyage without at least finding out what you are in for.’

‘And shall it be you that will be educating me?’ he asked, accepting the cards that were now being dealt. 

‘Most certainly.’ Hawkins replied. ‘If you wish it.’ 

Ross was suddenly aware that the rest of the table was watching them both rather intently. To cover his awkwardness he sipped his wine, although he couldn’t resist one last interjection.

‘In that case, let my education commence.’ he replied and Hawkins laughed. 

‘This evening has just become far more interesting.’ he declared. 

**********

It certainly did turn out to be an education worth mentioning on several counts.

For one thing, Ross’ assumption that he and Hawkins were of a similar nature turned out to be true. Hawkins was very witty and sharp tongued and he and Ross jousted for much of the first few games as they felt each other out. The other players were skilled but they were not in the same class as either himself or Hawkins and it quickly descended into a game of one-upmanship as they struggled to best each other, winning and losing to each other repeatedly. 

‘I tell God’s honest truth.’ Hawkins was laughing as he gathered in his winnings from the last hand. Ross gaped at him over the table.

‘That is disgusting.’ he declared and Hawkins snickered. 

‘After the first week you will feel it is but a matter of course.’ he said, although Ross could tell he was much amused by the reaction he was getting. ‘In fact, for some the weevils are a tasty addition to what is a particularly bland meal.’

‘That sounds inhuman.’ a portly gentleman to Ross’ left said as he fished out his pocket watch and consulted it. ‘Now I fear it is long past a decent hour for myself.’ He laid down his cards and stood up. ‘I will bid you all a good night and take my leave.’ He nodded to them and walked off. There were now only four of them left. Ross had noticed that the gathered people seemed to be part of one of two groups - those who were local and those who seemed to be acquaintances of their hostess, who he’d been assured was not a local woman. The house they were in was in actual fact being rented for the season and she was supposedly due to depart shortly before autumn set in. No-one seemed to know her directly and it appeared that all the guests had come about their invitation through friends of friends and that Ross also found interesting. Her nationality was also under discussion at one point, with several people claiming she was from the Ottomans, while someone else claimed he’d heard she was a princess of minor royalty from the Principality of Transylvania. It certainly sounded very exotic to Ross’s ears. She had come round several times to check on her guests and Ross had strained his ears to catch her accent, not that he would have been any great expert on the matter, and she had a hint of foreign pronunciation in her consonants that could certainly mark her is not being English. 

‘I fear that I too must depart.’ This was another of their set, an elderly man with white hair and a pair of half-moon spectacles. He got up and Ross looked across at Hawkins. 

‘Don’t tell me that you’re going to leave as well.’ he said and Hawkins gave him a wolfish grin, its competitive nature belied by the fact that it had a very endearing pair of dimples attached to it.

‘Not at all.’ he replied. ‘It would be a sad day that I let an infantryman get the better of me.’ Ross laughed at that and started to gather in the cards to shuffle and deal them when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Francis. 

‘I am done, cousin.’ he said. ‘I fear my luck has finally run out.’ He grinned at the other two players. ‘I see your table has also diminished. Shall I call for our horses?’ 

Ross was torn. He knew he had to be up to sail with the tide the following morning with his regiment, but he was also loathe to leave the table. He’d been having a fine time and Hawkins was now two hands up and Ross meant to win his money back by hook or by crook.

‘I think I may stay awhile.’ he replied and Francis frowned at him. 

‘Are you quite sure, Ross?’ he asked. ‘It is way past the hour.’

‘It is not yet one.’ Ross replied. He caught Hawkins’ eye. ‘Besides I am sure the good Lieutenant here will be more than happy to accompany me on our way back to Plymouth.’

‘Without a doubt.’ Hawkins said without missing a beat. ‘I would be glad of the company.’ He smiled at Francis and Francis gave Ross a look. 

‘In that case, I shall leave you to it.’ he said and Ross nodded and waved him off. 

‘I shall see you on the morrow, cousin.’ he said. ‘Have no fear, I shall be present at breakfast, no doubt nursing a stinking head.’ He grinned at Hawkins who raised his wine glass to him. 

‘I salute your stamina, sir.’ he said and Ross chuckled as he raised his own in reply. 

‘I shall say goodnight then.’ Francis said a little stiffly. ‘I shall see you at the inn.’ He nodded to the others and Ross watched him walk away. 

‘I don’t think he is too happy with your choice, Captain.’ Hawkins said. He was grinning back, dimples now shadows in his cheeks. ‘Although there are still plenty of people about.’ He nodded at the other guests that remained at the gaming tables and in conversation with others. ‘Maybe we should join them.’

‘Not bloody likely.’ Ross retorted, long past the point of caring as their final companion gave him an affronted look at the profanity. ‘I haven’t had this much fun in an age.’ 

‘Nor I.’ Hawkins said. ‘Tell me Captain, which ship are you due to sail on in the morning? I fear I have been remiss in not enquiring.’ 

‘I believe she is called the Dragon.’ Ross replied dealing out the cards. ‘Under a Captain Sellar.’ He looked up at Hawkins. ‘Are you acquainted with her?’

‘I should think so.’ Hawkins was now smiling. ‘I am her Third Lieutenant.’

‘Well now, don’t that beat all?’ their companion declared. He was a clergyman with a ruddy complexion that spoke of good living and appreciation of libation. ‘Fancy you both being on the same ship.’

‘Indeed.’ Hawkins said. ‘A most fortuitous turn of events. I will be able to win even more money off you before the voyage is out.’ That made Ross laugh. 

‘Just so long as you aid me in exterminating the weevils in my biscuit.’ he said, not giving any further thought to Francis or the fact that he was leaving without him. If he had, Ross would have lamented that he did not make their parting more memorable. 

After all it was the last time Francis would see him alive.


	2. Oh Bloody Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The card game degenerates into something else.

Jim had not planned to be engaged in any kind of social activity at all that evening. He had only been granted leave because one of the other officers had eaten a pie of dubious origin the day before and had been struck down with an awful belly that had seen him take to his bunk, clutching his stomach and groaning. Captain Sellar had then relented and allowed Jim to take his leave of the Dragon for a few hours. While the gesture had been kind, Jim had been too late to follow his fellow lieutenants and instead had ended up on the dock debating as to how to spend his time. There were many options – drinking or whoring or simply taking in the sights that a night on Plymouth dock could provide.

It was then that he’d been engaged in conversation by a well to do couple that had stopped their promenade to admire the Dragon’s fine lines and they’d engaged him in conversation, rightly guessing that he was part of her company. Jim had politely answered all their questions and at the end of it had been invited to join the couple for an evening of gaming and general revelry at a gathering they were to attend. Jim had happily accepted and accompanied them in their carriage to the appointed residence where he found that the evening presented him with the opportunity for some decent conversation and a chance to bulk out his lieutenant’s salary, a pasttime he thoroughly enjoyed. There were also a few likely young men and women (he was not particularly fussy where he took his pleasure) that Jim was hoping to maybe engage with in a completely different manner once the festivities were done. 

He’d been at the table, a good few hands up and enjoying himself immensely and eyeballing a rather elegant young man across the room when a tall figure had approached the table and he’d looked up into a pair of dark eyes and known that his evening was more or less done for. Jim had a terrible weakness for soldiers, something his fellow shipmates thought to be a near unforgiveable sin so he never ever mentioned it, and the soldier in front of him was a wonderful specimen, his handsome face and thick curly black hair like a match to Jim’s sensibilities. He’d decided right there and then that he would do his utmost to make sure that the evening would end with him getting buggered senseless against a tree somewhere on the rambling estate if he could ascertain whether the dashing young captain would be of a similar mind. Usually it didn’t take much to convince, and when Poldark confirmed that he was due to sail the following morning, Jim’s hopes had risen as he contemplated the best way to engineer an encounter. 

He’d been delighted to discover that the young officer was possessed of a quick tongue and their banter had been diverting to the point where Jim found that he was quite taken with him. They were equals when it came to winning, something he liked, and by the end of the evening he’d been rather sad to find that he’d hardly made his intentions clear and now it seemed as if he’d lose his chance when a young man had come to Poldark’s side. Poldark’s refusal to go home had been a delightful surprise as had his suggestion that Jim accompany him back to Plymouth and Jim had had to curb his eagerness in replying. He had given an answer in the affirmative and it had been accepted, which had then bought the further revelation that Poldark was due to sail on the Dragon of all ships and Jim’s evening got even better. The cousin had departed and that had left Poldark still sitting across from him, which was where he still was. There had been more wine and few more hands of cards and they were now talking about the coming voyage. The clergyman was listening, quite obviously fascinated, but Jim had eyes only for the young man across from him.

It was something he would regret later, knowing that his mind had been occupied elsewhere and so had left him off guard and not paying attention to what was happening in the background. Only later would he realise that the servants were moving about the room they were in, closing and locking windows and shutters and that most of the remaining guests seemed to be congregating in the room. He would have also noticed that they were predominantly the people that had been identified as friends of the woman who was their hostess. 

The attack, when it came, was completely out of the blue and Jim’s first instinct was to reach for his sword. But of course it was far away in his bunk and not within reach. He was tackled put of his chair and thrown to the ground most violently and it was only his quick reflexes that allowed him to kick off the man on top of him and roll to his feet. Fighting in close quarters on the deck of a moving ship required agility and speed and Jim had both in his favour. He was also not shy about fighting with little regard for the idea of gentlemanly conduct as most sailors were, and being gallant did not let you live when you in the heat of battle. He reached for the nearest object, the wineglass that he’d been drinking from and which was now toppled over and spilling its crimson contents across the snowy tablecloth, and smashed it into his attacker’s face. Across the table from him, Poldark was on his feet and the man that jumped on him was dealt a resounding blow as he fought back in a manner for suited for a back alley brawler than an infantry officer, and Jim had had a split second to wonder as to his background. Then he’d been jumped on by two of the other guests and had stopped thinking as he too fought back, using every dirty trick he’d learned in the Service and in several waterside brawls to try and get away. 

In the thick of it, he glimpsed the clergyman. The man was flat on his back, eyes open and staring as he was pinned by two people, a man and a woman, and Jim couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. They were crouched over him, worrying at him like a pair of animals and that made him look at his own attackers more carefully. To his horror he saw flashes of sharp white teeth and nails that had grown into claws and Jim redoubled his efforts, managing to break free. He moved and suddenly felt the solid weight of Poldark at his back. He moved against him, both of them breathing heavily. He glanced back at the young officer and saw that he had suffered a terrific injury to his face, a long gash from his eye down to near his chin that was dripping blood. 

‘What the bloody hell are they?’ he asked, the shock evident in his voice. Jim looked back at the creatures now circling them, feral and hunched over as they hissed and showed fangs that would have been more at home on one of the big cats that populated the southern colonies.

‘I do not know.’ he replied, still casting his eyes around for a weapon or an escape route and coming up with nothing. 

‘Well, I for one am not about to give them the satisfaction of an easy fight.’ Poldark’s voice was as sharp as a blade. 

‘Nor I.’ Jim said. ‘Maybe together we can get out of this.’

‘All right then.’ Poldark growled. ‘Together.’

‘Aye.’ Jim replied. ‘And if we get out of this alive, I shall buy you a drink Poldark.’

‘I think under current circumstances, you can call me Ross.’ Ross replied and Jim gave him a grim smile. 

It was the last thing he heard. The last thing Jim saw was their hostess standing just beyond the circle of snarling things and smiling at them both, her beautiful face cruel and haughty. She’d waved a hand and then the circle had fallen upon them and Jim felt sharp claws holding him still and then a greater pain as fangs ripped through his clothing and into his skin before it all went black.

**********

The next time he awoke, Jim was sure that he’d died and somehow passed over. For one thing there was nothing but blackness around him and his hearing was muffled, like he was deep underwater. There was something at the edges of it, a dull murmuring and then he felt two hands on him and he was shaken violently. 

‘James!’ the call was bordering on hysterical. ‘For God’s sake, wake up!’ 

The voice was familiar and Jim peered into the dark, realising that the longer he looked up the clearer it became until he could actually make out the face over him. It was Ross. His hair was loose and hanging in his face and his dark eyes had a wild look to them, but he seemed unharmed with the exception of a livid scar that ran down the side of his face.  
That odd little detail made Jim’s mind snap back into its usual focus and he sat up. 

‘How the devil did that heal?’ he asked and before he realised what he was doing he had a hand to Poldark’s face. ‘It was cut clean open.’ Ross frowned, his dark brows drawing right down as he also reached up and traced the scar, his fingers drifting over Jim’s. The touch was enough to make Jim draw back his hand quickly as he realised what he was doing. 

‘I can only think that we have perhaps been down here longer that I thought.’ Ross said. His words sent a chill down Jim’s spine as he realised the implications that came with them and he tried to get up, but the ground underneath him was uneven and yielding and as soon as he made it to his feet he fell over. Ross caught him as he fell, steadying him and Jim looked down at his feet. What he saw sickened him and he let out an involuntary cry. 

‘They’re all…’ he started and Ross nodded. 

‘They’re all dead.’ he confirmed. ‘When I awoke I feared that I was the only one left alive down here. Then I heard breathing and came across to find who was still alive.’ He looked at Jim. ‘It was you.’

‘You mean we are the only ones?’ Jim could now smell the bodies around them, wrinkling his nose and fighting back a wave of nausea at the stench of corruption. He knew Ross was right, the advanced state of decay indicating that he and Ross must have been down there for at least a few days, if not longer. That meant he’d missed the Dragon’s sailing and would now be on report for dereliction of his post. If he was caught, he would be tried and possibly hanged unless he could prove that it was not of his doing.

‘Are you all right?’ Ross asked. ‘It seems odd, but I feel almost…well.’ He was peering at Jim intently and Jim realised that, like Ross, his hair had come loose and he could also feel that his neck cloth was hanging in shredded ruins around his neck. He ran his hands over himself, checking for injuries and found none, although he did note that his coat was stiff with dried blood and the quantity seemed rather a large one.

‘I think so.’ he replied. ‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’ Ross said. ‘Apart from this.’ He ran a hand over his scar again. 

‘In that case, I suggest we try and find a way out.’ Jim said and looked around. Oddly enough he could now see fairly well, and he saw that they were in some sort of underground chamber that bore every resemblance to some sort of crypt.

‘There are some stairs over that way.’ Ross said. ‘And there is a door at the top, although I could not open it. But perhaps with two of us, we might prevail.’

‘In that case I shall follow you.’ Jim said and they tottered over the heaped bodies, grimacing as they trod upon limbs and backs as they made their way in the direction Ross had indicated. They got to the steps, when from the wall and made of rough stone, and climbed up until they got to the top. As Ross had said, there was a door set in the wall, heavy dark wood and banded with iron. Jim placed his hand on it and tried it. 

‘We’ll never get it open.’ he said. ‘It is far too heavy.’ Ross sighed. 

‘I thought it might be.’ He sounded so crestfallen that Jim looked at him. 

‘We could try.’ he said. ‘We’ve come all this way.’ Well, at least his sense of humour seemed to be intact. Ross nodded and they moved to stand next to each other. They braced their hands against the door and pushed. Predictably, nothing happened. 

‘Again.’ Ross asked and Jim nodded. This time they set their shoulders to it and shoved with all their might. To their mutual astonishment, the door gave a little and that was enough for them to redouble their efforts. The door creaked like a ship in a storm and then it sprang open, and they both fell through and into the night air. 

The sky was bright, the moon full, and Jim looked up at it as he mentally calculated the time he’d been gone. It had been waxing the night of the gathering, and he frowned. 

‘It’s been at least a week.’ He said and Ross looked at him. 

‘It can’t be.’ He sounded distressed. ‘That means…’

‘We are both absent from our posts.’ Jim finished for him. ‘I have already been through that.’ To his surprise Ross looked even more stricken that he already did. 

‘I cannot be a deserter.’ His voice was tight with fear. ‘They’ll hang me for sure this time.’ Jim processed the ‘this time’ and decided to hang on to it for later. He could now see that Ross seemed to be in the same state of undress as himself, his neckcloth torn and hanging around his neck. It also wasn’t hard to see that darker patches on his red coat, the same wash of blood that seemed to have cascaded down his front left side. 

‘let’s not think about that now.’ He said and looked around. ‘Where the devil are we?’ 

‘It looks like a…’ Ross trailed off. ‘There.’ He pointed and Jim followed his arm and saw the outline of a roof against the night sky. 

‘I think that’s the house.’ he said. 

‘So it would seem.’ Ross replied. ‘I say we go and find out what the blazes happened.’

‘Maybe we should go into town first.’ Jim ventured. ‘If the people that attacked us are still there, it would be worse for us.’ He frowned as he racked his brains as to the night they had been ambushed. ‘Although I must confess that my memory of what happened is somewhat foggy.’

‘I remember us fighting those…people.’ The way Ross said the word people indicated that he regarded them as nothing of the kind. ‘What do you think was wrong with them?’

‘Perhaps some sort of mental derangement.’ Jim replied. ‘They seemed to be…biting people?’ he remembered the clergyman, pinned to the floor and two of the guests over him, worrying at his throat. That made him life his hand to his neck, fear a cold wash through him. 

‘Well, I am going to have a look.’ Ross said, his face setting into a stubborn expression. ‘You may remain here if you wish.’ He started walking in the direction of the house. Jim sighed and then trotted to catch up with him. 

‘Very well.’ he said. ‘But only a quick look and then we have to think about how we are going to extricate ourselves from this very sticky situation we find ourselves in.’

They walked through the vegetation until the façade of the building came into sight. There were no lights in the windows and the whole place was as silent as the grave they had just crawled out of. 

‘What do you think?’ Ross hissed. 

‘I think that we’re likely to be apprehended for trespassing.’ Jim hissed back. 

‘That’s only if there’s anyone there.’ Ross replied, sounded slightly exasperated. ‘Which does not appear to be the case.’

‘Very well, then.’ Jim heaved a sigh. ‘One quick scout around.’

They made their way to the shadows that ran around the east of the house and checked in several windows. The shadows inside the house revealed a complete lack of occupants, only furnishings draped in white cloths and boxes packed for travel. Jim had started to notice something though and after they had looked in the seventh window, he caught Ross by the sleeve. 

‘What is it?’ Ross asked. 

‘Have you not noticed?’ Jim asked. ‘How well can you see?’

‘Very clearly.’ Ross replied. ‘But it is a full moon.’

‘What about in there?’ Jim asked and pointed at the window. Then he watched as the realisation slowly made its way across Ross’ face. 

‘That is odd.’ he said and Jim nodded. 

‘That’s not all.’ he said. ‘Listen.’ 

‘What?’ Ross asked. ‘I hear nothing. There’s not a soul about.’ 

‘How can you tell?’ Jim asked and Ross gave him a look like he’d grown an extra head. 

‘Because I can’t hear anyone inside.’ he said and then stopped dead. ‘Oh damnation…’

‘And you also managed to hear me breathing across a crypt full of dead bodies.’ Jim said. ‘Something is not right here.’ He looked around. ‘It’s as if I can hear everything.’ 

‘You’re right.’ Ross said and then sniffed. ‘There’s also that.’ Now it was Jim’s turn to ask.

‘There’s also what?’ he said and breathed in. All he could smell was night air and flowers and the somewhat overpowering stench of death that clung to both of them. 

‘There’s no smell of horses.’ Ross said. He peered into the window again. ‘I wonder if everyone hasn’t left. They did say the woman who was hosting was renting the house for the season.’ He rubbed his sleeve on the lowest pane of glass to get a better look but pressed too hard it seemed and the pane shattered under his elbow. Ross looked aghast and then very guilty. ‘Bother.’

‘Bother?’ Jim hissed at him. ‘You’re lucky no-one is home.’ He shook his head at the young officer and then went to survey the damage. ‘Well, seeing as the window’s already broken, we might as well have a look.’ He stuck his arm through the pane and felt around for the catch.

‘You berate me for breaking a window and now you’re going to burgle the place?’ Ross said, sounding mildly outraged. Jim glared at him and then made a triumphant noise as he popped the catch. The window swung open and he looked at Ross expectantly. Ross huffed and then held out his hands to give him a boost so he could get in through the window. Once inside, Jim leaned back out and held out his hand. Ross took it, and Jim hauled him in. He was surprised to find that it was quite easy to do so but made no mention of the fact. They stood and looked around the empty room. It was one of the downstairs parlours and they walked through, looking around as they did. They eventually got to the room they had been in and they both recoiled at the coppery stink of blood. Even without light, it was easy to see the blood that had soaked into the floorboards.

‘Bloody hell.’ Ross said, staring at the floor. ‘Do you think…’

‘It surely must have been.’ Jim replied. ‘Not all those bodies were in the same state.’ He knelt down and reached out, fingers drifting over the marks. ‘There must have been others.’ He looked up at Ross. ‘But why?’

‘Not for money.’ Ross dug a small leather bag out of his coat. ‘I still have my pay.’

‘No.’ Jim stood up. ‘I fear something more sinister.’ He wiped his hands down on his breeches. ‘Can I suggest we make a thorough search of the house? See if we can find any answers.’

‘After you.’ Ross said and followed him from the room. They found the library, dining room, sitting room and went on a tour of the service rooms at the back of the house but found no-one. 

‘This is proving to be a fruitless endeavour.’ Jim muttered as they made their way back to the stairway. 

‘Upstairs?’ Ross asked and Jim huffed and nodded. 

‘Nowhere left to look.’ he said and they started climbing. When they got to the top they found the corridor ran in both directions.

‘Maybe we should split up.’ Jim said. 

‘Not bloody likely.’ Ross replied. ‘Safety in numbers.’ 

They went left first, opening doors and peering in rooms. Like downstairs, all the furniture was covered in sheets as it waited for the owners’ return. The final room proved to be the master suite and they went on. The heavy velvet curtains had not been drawn here and Jim went to the windows and looked out, then turned back to see staring in horror at something. When he followed his gaze, he saw that Ross was staring at the mirror that was hanging over the dressing table against the wall. That made frown as he realised that this was the first mirror he’d seen in the entire house. 

‘I agree you look a fright.’ he said, trying to lighten the mood. ‘But surely there’s no need for that expression.’ 

‘Come here, James.’ Ross said.

‘Jim.’ Jim corrected. ‘If we’re going to be on a first name basis then that’s what my name is. No-one’s called me James since I was a boy.’ For a second Ross gave him a bemused look and then beckoned him more forcefully.

‘Come here, Jim.’ he repeated, and this time the way he said it hit home and Jim realised that Ross was being serious. He walked over and stood next to him. 

‘Now what?’ he asked and Ross pointed at the mirror.

‘Look there.’ he instructed and Jim turned and looked.

He saw nothing.

At first, Jim did not trust his eyes. He looked again and then lifted a hand and waved at the mirror. His reflection remained absent. Not only that, but Ross was nowhere in sight either. 

‘Bloody hell.’ He looked back at Ross and then back at their lack of reflections. ‘What the blazes is going on?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ross’ dark eyes were wide. ‘But that is not bloody natural.’


	3. Now What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go from bad to worse...

Having no reflection was proving to be both irksome and unsettling in the extreme. Jim and Ross were both puzzled and had found the shock had set them on the only pathway they knew to take to cope with it. It had seen them practically galloping back downstairs in search of more mirrors (just in case the one upstairs was not actually working) and through the entire house. They had found nothing and that had led them into the kitchen, both feeling extremely dejected. Being young men and enlisted in the various armed services, they had quickly sniffed out the kitchen’s supply of brandy and started drinking while they bemoaned their current situation and tried to come up with a way out of it.

They were seated at the long wooden table that ran the length of the room under the windows. Jim had been in charge of opening the bottles and Ross in charge of finding glasses. He’d come up short though and so they were drinking out of a couple of glass jars they had found on the back of a shelf. 

‘Bloody hellfire.’ Ross muttered for about the tenth time since they had started drinking. ‘My father is going to skin me alive when he gets his hands on me.’ Jim regarded his morose face with an expression of slightly drunken sympathy. 

‘It says much that I am very grateful to be an orphan at this particular time.’ he said into his jar. ‘Although, I fear that my Captain may well keel haul me and that would serve the same purpose.’ 

'What is a keel haul?’ Ross asked and Jim pulled a face. 

‘They drag you under the hull of the ship.’ he said, sounding more than a little depressed. ‘If you don’t drown, the fact that the barnacles will scrape all the skin off your body will make you wish you had.’

‘That sounds awful.’ Ross said and reached for the bottle. ‘Would he really do that?’

‘Who can say?’ Jim watched Ross fill his jar and then took the bottle from him, upending it and looking very disappointed with the trickle that came out. ‘Blast. We need more brandy.’ 

‘Well, you are most fortunate that you have no parents to answer to.’ Ross muttered. ‘I fear the disapproving looks will freeze me solid.’ Then he frowned. ‘Hang about. We need more brandy?’

‘This one is finished.’ Jim replied, holding up the empty bottle. ‘So I fear the logical reply is that we have drunk it.’ He set the bottle down and then did a quick tally of the other empty bottles on the table. ‘How many were there to begin with?’

‘Nine.’ Ross said, doing a count by pointing at the bottles and looking even more confused. ‘But there are nine here.’ He looked at Jim. ‘Have we truly drunk nine bottles’ worth?’ Jim’s eyebrows went up in astonishment as he realised that what Ross said was true. 

‘How are we still conscious?’ he asked. ‘I realise that we have good constitutions, but still…’ He trailed off and their eyes met. 

‘More mysteriousness?’ Ross asked and Jim huffed. 

‘Mystery, not mysteriousness Ross.’ he said and Ross glared at him. ‘I have to admit that I feel slightly inebriated but not to the extent that this should have made me feel. Why do you suppose that is?’

‘Don’t know and quite frankly, don’t care.’ Ross said and drank his brandy. Jim watched him and then snorted and got up. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To see what’s left.’ Jim said and started another hunt through the cupboards. He did run across the decanters this time and was delighted to find that the brandy one was half full. He grabbed it without thinking and then yelped very loudly as a searing pain flared through his hand, dropping the decanter so it fell and shattered on the flagstone floor. It startled Ross so badly that he let out a bellow of surprise and started up from his chair, caught both feet in the legs and fell over. By the time he had scrambled back up, Jim was over at the stone sink. He had the pump going and was holding his hand in the stream of cold water. 

‘What on Earth happened?’ Ross loped over to the sink and looked over Jim’s shoulder. ‘Did you cut yourself?’

‘No, you blithering idiot.’ Jim snapped, pain making him short-tempered. ‘The bottle only broke when I dropped it.’

‘No need to be hostile.’ Ross snapped back and then went to look at the remains of the decanter. He prodded the shards with the toe of his boot and then knelt down. ‘It looks a perfectly normal decanter. Well, apart from the fact that you’ve utterly destroyed it. Which counts as damage of property, which you said we weren’t going to do.’ This was shot across to Jim with an accusatory look. 

‘I did not do it on purpose!’ Jim shouted and that made Ross startle again. This time when he fell over though, he threw out a hand and it landed on the broad silver collar that had been around the neck of the decanter. It took only a second or two before he was yelling in pain and dashing over to the sink to shove Jim out of the way so he could put his hand under the water as well. 

‘The collar.’ he blurted when he could finally speak. ‘It burnt me.’

‘The collar?’ Jim looked back over his shoulder. ‘But why would it do that? It’s a silver collar. I have touched one alike to it every night I have eaten at the Captain’s table.’ He shook his burned hand and examined it, then reached for Ross’ so they could compare. In both cases there was a distinct burn mark marring their palms. It reminded Jim of the time when he’d been a small child and had picked up a lump of coal that had fallen from the hearth only to discover that it was scorching hot.

‘Search me.’ Ross grumbled. He blew on his palm. ‘The silver?’

‘Silver?’ Jim looked at the collar where it lay on the floor. He walked over to it and then crouched down. He licked a finger and then very cautiously touched the collar. There was a soft hissing noise and he quickly snatched it away, then looked up at Ross. ‘That appears to be the case.’ 

‘Are you sure?’ Ross came back over and Jim very gingerly picked up a piece of crystal. Nothing happened and he nodded. 

‘Definitely the silver. Here, see for yourself.’ He held out the shard to Ross and Ross took it. 

‘This is positively confounding.’ he said and Jim stood up. 

‘Aye, that it is.’ he said, now so flabbergasted by the entire happening that he was getting to the point where he desperately wanted to start drinking again. He walked back to the sink and looked out the window. It was starting to lighten outside, the sky turning a soft grey. ‘It is nearly morning. We need to decide what avenue we are going to pursue.’ 

‘This is like some awful nightmare.’ Ross was now resigned. ‘I suppose we should leave before someone comes and finds us. The question is where to go. We cannot go back to town looking like this. Absence aside, we look like we have perpetuated a violent criminal act.’ He glanced down at his once fine coat sadly. ‘We’re bloodstained, our clothes are torn and we appear thoroughly disreputable.’

‘True.’ Jim frowned. ‘Perhaps there will be something we can change into still lying around.’ He walked past Ross and Ross followed him, now looking even more appalled. 

‘That is stealing.’ he hissed and Jim rounded on him. 

‘Maybe so, however right at this moment we need to get out of this house and not draw attention to ourselves.’ he said, getting angrier by the second. ‘Need I remind you of the fact that we will no doubt be on a charge of desertion? I don’t know about you, Ross, but I would prefer not to dance at the end of a noose until I have had a chance to find out what the bloody hell has happened to me.’ His voice went up as his normally pragmatic exterior shattered. ‘I’ve been bloody bitten, had my uniform ruined, been left for dead in a crypt on a pile of corpses and have now found out that I will need to take care whenever I drink port in case the bottle tries to incinerate me! So you will excuse me if I seem a bit upset about the whole bloody debacle and just want to figure a way out of this!’ This last was yelled at Ross and at first Jim thought that the shock on Ross’ face was because of the way he was being spoken to, but then he saw that it wasn’t going away. He sighed and put his hands on his hips. ‘Now what?’

‘Your…your…’ Ross seemed to give up on using words and gestured wildly at his own mouth. ‘For God’s sake man, your teeth!’

‘Teeth?’ Jim was at a loss. ‘What about my teeth?’ He prodded at them experimentally with his tongue and then noticed something. ‘Oh dear Lord…’

‘Exactly!’ Ross said. ‘That is not bloody natural!’ 

‘So you keep saying.’ Jim was now running his tongue over the two new additions in his mouth. They appeared to be located where his eye-teeth normally resided, long and wickedly sharp. He was reminded of a pirate they had captured that wore a necklace of fangs around his neck. These felt remarkably like those. ‘Where the bloody hell did they come from?’

‘It happened when you got angry.’ Ross said, now taking a cautious step forward and peering into Jim’s mouth. ‘They just…popped out.’

‘That is the final bloody straw.’ Jim turned on his heel and started storming off, Ross jogging to keep up with him. ‘We’re finding something to wear that isn’t covered in blood and then getting out of here. We can lie low for a few days, head for somewhere we won’t be noticed.’ 

‘Like where?’ Ross asked. ‘I’ve never been out of Cornwall.’ Jim turned and looked at him, his face softening as he realised that Ross was scared stiff. Even as he did, he felt the fangs recede which was extremely odd. 

‘Well, I have.’ he said. 

‘Yes, but you’re practically a stranger.’ Ross replied. ‘You don’t know me, Jim. You could well run off and I’d be left not knowing what the hell to do.’ He sounded distraught and Jim sighed. 

‘I will not be running off anywhere, Ross.’ he said. ‘I give you my word. Until we get to the bottom of all this mysteriousness I shan’t leave your side.’ He said it with a small smile and Ross, realising he was being gently teased, gave him one in reply. ‘Now come on, buck up and let’s go and do some more constructive exploring.’ He went over to Ross and tugged on his arm. ‘I wager that there must be something lying around that will fit those ridiculous legs of yours.’

‘Better than being too short to see over a gun.’ Ross retorted, some of his spark coming back as he followed Jim back through to the living room. 

They tried upstairs but there was nothing in the way of personal effects to be found at all. They came back downstairs and found that the situation was the same. That was when Ross had his epiphany.

‘The cellars.’ he said. 

‘The cellars?’ Jim did not look convinced. ‘Surely those are just for storage?’

‘Well, they’re the only place we haven’t looked.’ Ross replied. 

‘Fair enough.’ Jim said and they started searching for the door, finding it at the back of the pantries. There was a lamp at the entrance and Jim had it lit before realising that they really didn’t need it. Still, it was comforting and he held it out in front of them as they descended the stairs into the cool gloom of the cellar below the kitchen. They found it to be a storage area, with more food and drink and what appeared to be several large wooden crates. Jim lifted the lid of one and frowned. 

‘It’s dirt.’ he said and held up the lantern so Ross could see. 

‘Why would they have dirt?’ Ross tested it it between his fingers. ‘It’s not from round here, far too peaty.’ 

‘Odd.’ Jim closed the lid and then spotted another door. ‘What about through there?’ 

They tried the door and found it open. The room beyond though was very different. For one thing it was completely empty but for a single stone container that had them both gaping at it and a series of trunks. 

‘Is that…’Jim looked at Ross, whose hazel eyes were now very wide. 

‘It’s a casket.’ he hissed. ‘We have them at Nampara, in our mausoleum.’ 

‘Really?’ Jim turned back to the container and studied it. ‘Why would there be one down here?’ His face set in a determined expression and he went to the side and started pushing at the lid.

‘What are you doing?’ Ross rushed over and pulled him away. ‘There could be someone in there.’

‘And if there is, then they are going to bloody wake up and give us an explanation.’ Jim declared and started pushing again. ‘Enough of this blasted idiocy.’

‘They won’t be able to wake up if they’re dead, Jim.’ Ross pointed out, his tone very clearly indicating that he thought Jim had gone mad. 

‘If they’re dead, then they won’t care about me opening this.’ Jim retorted. ‘See? We can argue about this all day.’ He huffed in annoyance as the lid did not budge. ‘I need more light.’ He nodded at the lamp he’d set on the floor. ‘Hold that for me, will you?’

Ross picked up the lamp and held it for him while Jim threw himself into his task and eventually the stone lid moved aside. What they saw made them both gasp. 

In front of them, on a bed of the same dirt they had just found in the crates in the other room, was their hostess. She was wearing the same red velvet dress and collar of garnets, but now her skin was waxy and pale and her mouth smeared with what looked like old blood. Her eyes were closed, and even as they stared they could see that she was not breathing at all. 

‘What in the name of all that is…’ Ross’ mouth was hanging open. ‘Jim…’

‘I think we need to leave.’ Jim sounded like he’d had all the wind taken out of his sails. ‘Now.’

That was when their hostess woke up, opened her mouth to show off a pair of fangs that put Jim’s to shame, and screamed at them loud enough to split the stone lid of the casket.

In response Jim and Ross screamed like a pair of children and fell over each other in their terror and rush to get away. Unfortunately, Ross’ long legs got tangled again and they fell over clutching at each other and hitting the floor in an ungainly heap. The lamp Ross had been holding flew into the air and came tumbling down in a delicate shower of lamp oil to fall right in their hostess’ lap. It took but a second before the inevitable happened and to their horror, she went up in a sheet of flame with an ear splitting screech. Jim and Ross kept screaming, both of them holding onto each other and furiously scuttling back on the floor from the casket until they hit the wall. Eventually the screeching stopped and the fire died down. They sat and stared at the rising coils of smoke, coughing every now and them and completely overwhelmed by it all. 

‘That is it!’ Jim finally exploded and the fangs popped out again. ‘Enough! I don’t care what we look like! We are getting the bloody hell out of here!’

‘I agree.’ Ross managed to get to his feet and helped him up. ‘I never want to set foot in this accursed place again!’ Jim was just about to rely when something moved overhead and they looked up at the ceiling above them. With their new extra sensitive hearing, they could tell there were two people talking above them and moving through the kitchen in their direction. 

‘Christ Almighty.’ Jim swore. ‘What bloody next?’ 

‘I think we’re about to find out.’ Ross hissed and pointed to where they could just make out the shadows of two people descending the stairs. Sure enough they came straight through to the room they were in and he braced himself for a confrontation. Jim did the same and they waited until the men came in, both holding up lanterns and brandishing what appeared at first glance to be spears. That threw them both off and Ross and Jim looked at each other. The men saw them and started yelling at them almost immediately, but it was in a language that neither of them recognised. They seemed extremely irate and became even more so when they got a look at the smouldering casket behind Jim and Ross. Then they really picked up speed and pointed the spears at them. Ross and Jim both threw their hands up. 

‘Why do I get the feeling that we’re in an awful lot of trouble here.’ Jim hissed and Ross peered over his shoulder at the casket. 

‘I tend to agree.’ he hissed back. ‘Ideas?’ 

‘Not a single one.’ Jim replied. Even as he said it, one of the men thrust his spear at him and it went right through Jim’s coat and shirt and into the left hand side of his stomach.

‘Jim!’ Ross’ cry was one of shock and anger and as Jim fell to his knees, he looked up just in time to see something extraordinary happen. Ross’ entire face changed, his eyes going shiny and black with no sclera to speak of. He opened his mouth and Jim saw that he now too had fangs, wicked looking things that glinted as he hissed at the two men like an angry cat. Then he was upon them, leaping forward and knocking one flying and landing on the one that had stabbed Jim. Jim stared in horrified fascination as Ross pinned the man to the ground and buried his face in his neck. The man screamed once and the rich coppery smell of fresh blood filled Jim’s nose. 

It was like being hit by cannon fire. 

The next thing he knew he was on his feet, yanking the spear from his side and descending on the other fallen man like he was possessed by some demonic spirit. The man yelled and hit out at him, trying to escape, but Jim’s new strength held him still. He leaned in, sniffing deeply as a deep seated instinct told him what to do. He could hear the man’s heart pounding in terror, smell the blood coursing through the vessels just under the delicate skin of his neck. Next to him, Ross was growling like a dog and the man he was feeding from had started flailing like he was having a fit. 

Jim looked back at the man he held still and did the same, fangs ripping through the skin of the man’s neck and opening up the veins underneath. He hadn’t known what to expect, hadn’t even considered it in the speed that all this was happening at, but it wasn’t for the blood to taste as divine as it did. And it was divine, better and richer than the finest wine he’d ever had. It was glorious, gliding down his throat like liquid silk, and fuelling a burst of heat and lust so strong that it was all he could do to hold on. He heard more growling and realised it was coming from himself. He drank until there was no more to drink, then dropped the man on the floor. He was panting, like he’s just fought a battle or been fucked to within an inch of his life. Then the realisation of what had just happened kicked in and he was filled with horror and disgust at what he’d just done. He looked up and saw Ross was staring wild-eyed at him, his mouth and teeth bloody and the same look on his face. 

‘What…’ he whispered, but it was like a shout in Jim’s ears. 

‘I fear that whatever she once was, we have become.’ he replied and they both turned and looked at the casket. 

‘And what is that exactly?’ Ross asked, his voice shaking. 

‘Vampires, lads.’ a voice said behind them and they both whirled around again, fangs out and hissing at the intruder. ‘You’re newborn vampires. Not something I had planned on dealing with, but then one can never quite tell what you might find when entering a nest of this kind.’ The man the voice belonged to stepped forward and they got a look at him. He was dressed like a traveller with his plain coat of brown shabby velvet under a leather overcoat and worn boots. The strangest thing about him was his appearance though. Jim was not quite as surprised, having seen many folk of his complexion in his travels, but Ross was quite astonished by the man’s dark brown skin and black eyes. 

‘And how the bloody hell would you know that?’ he managed to ask, trying to sound a lot braver than he felt. The man smiled at them, two fangs glinting. 

‘Because I happen to be one.’ he said.


	4. On an Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Ross head off into uncertainty.

‘Vampires?’ Jim was watching Carter with a look of disbelief on his face. ‘It just doesn’t sound real.’

‘No, I agree.’ Carter said. ‘That’s exactly what I thought when I was first turned.’ He sipped the brandy he’d been given and gestured with the jar he was holding. ‘There’s a lot of different legends and a lot of different names – _vampyr, shtriga, soucoyant_.’ He nodded at the other figure sitting across the table from him. ‘Mei-Ling is a _jiangshi_. It’s not the name that’s important but what you are.’

‘And that would be what exactly?’ Ross asked.

‘Undead.’ Carter replied. ‘Immortal in a sense. But with that comes the inability to survive unless you drink the blood of the living. Like what you two did to those two unlucky bastards down there.’

‘We didn’t mean to.’ Ross protested. Once his faculties had returned, he’d been horrified by what he’d done. Jim had taken the more pragmatic approach that it had been them or the two men and that they had simply been protecting themselves, especially seeing as how the one man had stabbed him without a second thought.

‘Whether we meant to or not, we did Ross.’ Jim said. He looked at Carter thoughtfully. ‘So we can’t die?’

‘Oh no, you can certainly die.’ Carter laughed. ‘In fact it’s very easy to die when you’re a newborn like you two are. But if you’re sensible then you will live for a very long time.’ He nodded at Jim’s side. ‘How are you feeling by the way?’

‘Remarkably well for someone who was run through.’ Jim replied and he and Ross exchanged a look. The second Ross had stopped drinking he’d gone to Jim’s side to tend to him and found that the wound had been healing itself. That had been more than enough for them to take Carter up on his offer and retreat to the cellar full of supplies where they were now gathered around the wooden table in the middle of the room and drinking the final bottle of brandy they had been able to locate while Carter explained things to them.  
He’d been an indentured servant, brought from Africa as a slave and then obtained by the British when they had captured his ship and taken him to a life of servitude in Virginia, which had been little better. He’d worked for ten years until his fortunes had changed and he’d been lost in a card game by his employer to a new arrival. She had turned out to be a vampire and Carter’s first night had seen him being used first as entertainment and then as food. It also turned out that she and their hostess were one and the same person. That had been an interesting revelation, especially when Carter had recounted how he’d been hunting her for the greater part of twenty years, trying to get his revenge for what she had done to him. Mei-Ling was different. For one thing she was a woman, and a beautiful one at that. She wore her robes like they were made from silk, not the hard wearing fabric they were crafted from, and her think glossy black plait ran down to her knees. Jim had met a few Chinamen, and so she was not as foreign to him as she might have been. Ross on the other hand was being hard pressed not to stare at her. She said very little, and had refused the brandy.

‘Wounds like that will heal swiftly if you are able to feed soon after.’ Carter said. ‘You are now going to find that there is little that troubles you in the way of injury or malaise. Unless of course the wound is to your heart. That could prove fatal, as will fire.’ He sipped again. ‘You’ve already witnessed what can happen, even to an elder such as your maker.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s quite amusing when you contemplate that you two may now be the last of a once great bloodline.’

‘We didn’t ask for this.’ Jim said, sounding rather put out. ‘And I don’t care how great her bloodline was. She killed us and left us for dead.’

‘Yes, she did.’ Carter replied. ‘You were but food to her, you see. You weren’t supposed to turn, just rot away with the rest of the corpses.’

‘So why did we?’ Ross asked.

‘Perhaps your age, perhaps because you are both strong and healthy and your bodies adapted even as they were feeding from you.’ Carter said. ‘Who can tell?’

‘The question is what shall become of you.’ Mei-Ling said quietly.

‘That is a good question.’ Carter said. ‘I’ve been tracking the Countess for a great many years now, and just when I feel that I am finally going to have some reconciliation of my fate, you two take it away from me and in the most unexpected fashion.’ He looked so stern as he said it that Jim and Ross both leaned away from him a little. Then Carter completely surprised them by breaking into a deep laugh that echoed around the cellar. ‘But then you have also saved me a great deal of trouble. I feel like I should repay the favour.’

‘And just what have you in mind when you propose this?’ Jim asked.

‘Mei-Ling and I belong to a long and noble line of vampires that have sworn to try and eradicate this disease from the world.’ Carter said. ‘We feel that this is condemnation of the worst kind, a pestilence visited upon us by those who would oppress.’ He nodded in the direction of the still smoking ruin that had been the Countess. ‘It’s no co-incidence that those who spread it are in positions of power.’

‘So you are vampires that hunt other vampires?’ Ross asked. ‘That sounds a little treasonous.’

‘Like your companion said, none of us chose this fate.’ Carter replied. ‘I would be more than happy to let someone run me through the heart with a stake once I knew that there was no chance of more like me being created.’

‘But immortality is a great gift, surely.’ Ross replied. Carter snorted.

‘Tell me that after your first century and then we will revisit your opinion.’ he said. ‘Everyone I knew is dead. I have no ties to this changed world anymore and it saddens me greatly. Vampires are also solitary creatures by nature.’ He nodded at Mei-Ling. ‘Mei’s over a thousand years old. She will tell you about loss at length.’

‘Well, I am already ahead of you on that count.’ Jim said. ‘My parents are both dead and I have no other family to speak of.’ He glanced at Ross. ‘But I cannot say the same for him.’ That gave Ross pause as he contemplated that particular fact.

‘It’s true.’ he said. ‘What will become of them?’

‘Nothing as long as you keep your distance.’ Carter said. ‘Once the Countess’ own relations have discovered her fate, you can be sure that they will be seeking revenge for this. You would do well to cut ties and never contact them again. At any rate, you can never return to your life before.’

‘I was supposed to be on a ship bound for the Americas.’ Ross said. ‘And believe me my fate back in Cornwall was not a particularly kind one. This is no worse.’

‘You were pressed weren’t you?’ Jim said and Ross gave him a look of some surprise. ‘I’ve been thinking about it and what you’ve said.’ Ross sighed but saw no further need to conceal his actions anymore. Now that he was a vampire and had actually eaten someone, being involved in smuggling seemed like the least of his sins.

‘I was a smuggler.’ he said and a look of disapproval crossed Jim’s face.

‘A smuggler.’ he said. ‘Of course. Cornwall.’

‘It no longer matters at any rate.’ Carter said. ‘We won’t be here for long. Certainly not long enough for anyone to find you. We’ll need to keep you out of sight for a while, at least until we’ve taught you how to look after yourselves.’

‘And where shall we be going?’ Jim asked. ‘We can’t very well travel around in this state.’

‘Oh we most certainly can.’ Carter replied. ‘We have ways around things like that. We travel by night and avoid those who would persecute us. We have learned to sleep in the ground if needs be, like the true dead.’ He nodded at their uniforms. ‘We’ll have to get rid of those for starters. Far too conspicuous.’ Jim and Ross glanced at each other, the realisation of what they were about to do etched on both their faces.

‘You’ll have no need of them.’ Mei-Ling said. ‘Your human lives are now behind you.’

***********

A search of the house produced no suitable change of clothes for both of them, so they had to resort to making do with what they could find. It was a little tricky dressing without a mirror and they found themselves relying on each other for confirmation that they were suitably presentable. They were now standing in one of the servants’ bedrooms, a footman’s no doubt, while they examined Jim’s side. His tanned skin was quite unblemished, a shock that had both of them speechless.

‘How?’ Ross was shaking his head as he tucked the shirt he’d taken into his breeches which had thankfully avoided staining. Jim shrugged and pulled the one he had over his head. The footman whose wardrobe they were purloining was somewhere between both of them so it was a little short in the arms for Ross and long for Jim. They both ended up rolling the sleeves up and that seemed to suit. They had more luck with coats. The occupants appeared to have had sons, and there were a couple of spare travelling coats in leather in the boot room. The footman himself had also been possessed of a somewhat shabby frock coat in grey velvet that had apparently been outgrown for it was kept at the back and breeches that were in much the same state. The coat was a little worn in the elbows but if fitted Jim almost as if made for him. There was an accompanying waistcoat in striped ticking and once he was dressed, he actually looked rather respectable.

‘I feel most strange out of uniform.’ he replied. ‘It’s most peculiar. I haven’t worn anything other since I was twelve.’

‘Well you do not look worse for it.’ Ross said, somewhat begrudgingly. He had to admit that Jim was starting to look rather better than he had earlier. Carter had advised them that their bodies would adjust and change as they completed their transformation. He reached for his own new ensemble, another find in the butler’s room. It was shabby black velvet, the waistcoat expertly mended in a few places.

Once they were dressed they returned to the kitchen to find that Mei-Ling had started a fire and was solemnly burning their clothes. She was alone.

‘Where is Carter?’ Jim asked as he moved to stand next to her.

‘He is taking care of the others.’ Mei-Ling replied. ‘To make sure that no more rise.’ Her mouth curved in a wry smile. ‘And of course to find anything of value that we may take with us.’ That made Ross think of his own possessions. His money bag and pocket watch were both safe but everything else he owned was back at the inn. Jim’s own possessions were marginally more numerous. He owned no watch, not needing one aboard ship and in fact claiming that it was bad luck to bring on when embarking on a voyage. He did however have a small pocket compass, a fine comb, his own money and a folding ship’s knife and a small brass box which held tinder and flint.

‘A rather sad assemblage.’ he said to Jim.

‘To be honest, the thing I shall be most sad to let go of are my books.’ Jim said, clearly crestfallen. ‘They are all aboard the Dragon, as are my journals and my drawings.’

‘Have no fear.’ Mei-Ling replied. ‘You will soon accumulate more.’ She smiled at Jim. ‘It is good to have interests that will allow time to pass.’ There was the sounds of footsteps and they all turned as Carter came back into the kitchen. He had a coat in his hands that he’d used as an improvised bag. He turned it out on the table and a quantity of jewellery, watches and money bags fell out.

‘A good haul.’ he said to them. ‘There is enough here to get us to Europe and that’s without raiding the Countess’ trunks.’

‘So it’s a life of thieving then.’ Ross said.

‘Yes, it is Ross.’ Carter replied. ‘We must live in the shadows now and take out living where we may find it. In time we become rich and we are able to be more settled and once you are older you may choose to do this.’ His grin was sharp. ‘But for now, we move around until you are able to care for yourselves.’

‘I have so many more questions.’ Jim said.

‘We shall save those for the journey.’ Carter replied. ‘There will be sufficient time for you to ask all you wish. Now we must wait until sunset and then we make for Bristol. Probably best to avoid Plymouth altogether.’

‘There are but two horses.’ Mei-Ling replied.

‘No actually.’ Carter said. ‘I have managed to locate one down at the tenant farm. He is a dray but he shall be carrying two.’

‘And what of the farmer?’ Ross asked and Carter got a fierce glint in his eyes.

‘The Countess saw fit to despatch them some time in the previous week.’ he said. ‘The only ones there were of her employ and I made short work of them.’ He scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘Which reminds me, you’ll need swords.’

They found none in the house, even after searching again. Ross was walking through the ground floor, looking for Jim who had disappeared. He found him in the library, running his fingers over the collection of volumes, stopping to linger at one in particular. Ross came to look over his shoulder and saw it was a volume of Herodotus.

‘I have one.’ Jim said, and there was a little dip in his voice. ‘It was a gift from my parents when I went to sea.’ His breathing hitched and Ross could see that he was upset. ‘I shan’t see that again.’ Ross looked at him, and then in defiance reached over and took the book from the shelf and handed it to Jim, getting an astonished look. ‘You can’t do that.’

‘Why not?” Ross asked. ‘We’ve taken clothing.’

‘Servants’ clothing.’ Jim replied. ‘And everything else is from the deceased. This is different. These are books.’ The way he said books had an almost religious fervour to it.

‘And most of them are probably never read.’ Ross replied. He gestured to the book. ‘Look. The pages are clean, the cover unmarked. This book is for show. It will have a far better home with you.’

Jim gave him a strange look and Ross found himself looking back, getting almost lost in the luminous blue-green eyes.

‘You have an oddly romantic streak, Ross Poldark.’ he said.

‘I’m not the one that ran away to sea when I was twelve.’ Ross retorted and then looked over his shoulder when he heard Carter calling for them. ‘I think that means it’s time to go.’

They shared the money four ways between them, and went outside. The daylight was fading quickly and their mounts were waiting. Carter and Mei-Ling mounted their horses. The farm animal turned out to be a sturdy cob, black with four white socks. Ross smiled as he smoothed a hand over the gelding’s nose and then mounted up, settling in before he held out a hand to Jim.

‘Not quite a frigate.’ he said and Jim huffed.

‘He is as large as one.’ he replied and then took Ross’ hand. Ross hauled him up to sit behind him, a shiver going through him as Jim’s hands came to land on his hips.

‘All set?’ Carter asked and they both nodded. ‘Then let us be off.’ He turned his horse and Mei-Ling rode hers to fall in next to him. Ross kicked the gelding gently and the horse trotted off after them into the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a personal note, this will be the last update for a while. Stay frosty, folks,


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